31. Riggs
RIGGS
Later that evening, Riggs sat at his desk, staring between the writing in his notebook and the ammit blood vials resting in ice bowls—vials he had collected nearly a week ago.
He had been running more tests and furthering his research, normally a distraction able to consume him fully.
Yet, no matter what he did, he could not stop thinking about her.
He tapped his pen on the side of his head, staring at his notes.
Blood analyses-: Ammit Blood
Blood type- unknown-non-human antigen
Color: Deep Crimson with iridescent gold veining
Observations: Exposure to airborne Pale Rot spores results in complete neutralization within 37 seconds.
He sighed, staring out the window. The moon and stars shone brightly, reflecting off the tree bark.
He adjusted his reading glasses higher on the bridge of his nose.
He had wanted to figure out the cure before they left.
But he knew it would be impossible, knew he was months, if not years away from discovering it.
If Riggs was anything, it was optimistic.
A tiny black spider leapt from the window, crawling across his paper.
He watched its fuzzy legs escape the page and cling to the wall.
His jaw slackened, chest expanding. There was a whole other world out there living among them.
The micro world. Unnoticed by many, but Riggs saw them—observed them. And admired the hell out of them.
He blinked, adjusting his vision, and reached for the vial. He rotated the glass in his hands, wondering how to remove the antigens and isolate the main source of its curable property to replicate. There had to be a way, somehow. He tapped his pen on his desk, the beat incessant. “Focus.”
A soft, sweet voice cut through the silence. “Riggs?”
The world stilled.
Slowly, he turned in his seat.
The breath escaped his lungs. He tore his glasses off and rose to his feet as if he was in a dream, his heart thundering.
“Esemeray?” he whispered like he was praying to the gods.
She stood there, arms wrapping around her breasts, legs clamped tightly.
Riggs' gaze swept over her petite bare body, tracing the delicate curves and the smoothness of her skin.
His eyes halted, fists tightening. He tried to keep his breathing under control as his eyes fell on the gruesome scar on her chest.
He steadied his breathing, forcing his mind to be calm.
Do not ruin this moment.
Ask later.
His hands uncurled, memorizing everything else—the scatter of freckles along her arms, the soft rise of her full, lifted breasts.
She was exquisite, but it was her eyes that held him captive.
He couldn’t look away. He needed to hold her, needed to touch her.
Needed to know if this moment was real and not part of his imagination.
The sight of her ruby cheeks told him she was embarrassed.
She needs something to wear. Riggs rushed to his bed, ripping the comforter off.
He could have sworn Esemeray trembled as he closed the space between them.
Carefully, he wrapped the blanket around her, his hands never letting go, in fear she’d vanish the moment he did.
“I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t leave. I tried, but I couldn’t. I’m sorry.”
Riggs inhaled her scent, a lightness spreading through his chest. He took it all in. He caressed her hair, his fingers getting lost into the thick of it. “No, I am sorry. I was never going to tell you to leave.”
His stomach tightened at the remembrance.
Esemeray’s betrothed.
Heat slammed into him.
He’d wait. Wait for another time. Right now, what mattered was that she was here with him.
She pulled back from his hold. “But your father, my father?—”
“I don’t care what my father says. I don’t care how high the stakes are.” A small smile. “I want you with me, as a kitten, as a little black spider, as you.”
Esemeray’s lips lilted. “How did you know that was me?”
He teased, “I didn’t, but you’re lucky I didn’t smash you.”
She smiled nervously. “Or pinned me…” She jerked her chin toward the shelf of pinned insects. “Like the rest of them.”
“You would have been by far my favorite.” He cupped her cheeks. “I would have even made a special shelf just for you.”
Esemeray chuckled, holding the blanket tighter. Riggs smiled and kissed her forehead. Her eyes closed as if she were enjoying the press of his lips, so he moved toward her eye lids, and ever so gently, kissed those too.
He brushed his thumb along her jaw, his gaze dropping to her lips, his heart kicking hard against his ribs. She didn’t move. Didn’t back away. She just watched him with that same dark, dangerous stare, like she was testing him. Daring him. And gods, he wanted to fail her test.
He leaned in, her mouth parting ever so slightly.
His lips met hers with a soft, almost hesitant caress.
For a second, the world froze. Then she kissed him back, the tension shattering and bursting into a thousand shards of glass.
She pulled him closer, fingers curling into his shirt, and that was it.
His other hand slipped around her waist, dragging her against him. She was warmth and sweetness and gods help him, he had never wanted anybody as much as he wanted her.
Her mouth opened under his, so he deepened the kiss with a low growl, and she answered it, matching him stroke for stroke.
She tasted like every sinful thought he ever had, something he’d never be able to let go of now he’d had a taste. Lost in her tenderness, a single, dangerous thought took root: She’s already mine.
He hadn’t realized he was moving as they toppled onto his bed, their lips never leaving each other. She let out a soft moan, drowning him in ecstasy.
Fuck.
He pulled back slightly, needing to look at her and know that this moment was real.
But there she was, beneath him like mist and moonlight.
She was here. And this moment was real. Their kiss had been real.
And she looked damn good laying beneath him.
The blanket inched open, revealing her breasts, and hardened nipples.
If she were anyone else, he would have ripped the wool further open.
Would have pinned her to the bed and buried himself deep inside of her.
But she wasn’t just anyone. Riggs' throat worked as he adjusted the blanket, covering her chest from his sight.
“Riggs…” Esemeray whispered, sliding her hand along his cheek, breaking his thoughts.
He rested his hand on hers and stared into her eyes, losing himself in her gaze. “You’re here,” he breathed. “You’re really here.”
She smiled, and whispered, “I’m here.”
Riggs' brows bunched. “Don’t do that again.” His voice was hoarse. “Don’t leave like that.”
Her gaze dropped, color staining her cheeks. “I didn’t make it far.” Her throat bobbed as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I turned around. I came back. I couldn’t leave. Not if it meant leaving you.”
His brows knitted together. “What was your plan, Esemeray?”
“I was never much of a planner.” Her eyes lowered to his lips. “I…promise not to leave like that again,” she said, her voice was nothing more than a murmur, “I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Her promise was all he needed before crashing his lips against hers once more. He flicked his tongue on the roof of her mouth, whimpering into his next kiss.
Her body writhed beneath him, aching to be touched, to be kissed, to be devoured. That sweet taste of hers lingered on his tongue, each stroke making his cock throb. He should stop. He needed to. But he couldn’t.
His tongue delved deeper, tasting her like he was starving.
She moaned, her fingers tangling in his hair, tugging him closer as if even the press of their lips wasn’t close enough.
Godsdamn.
His throbbing cock strained against her, hard and aching. Did she feel it? He pulled back, fearing he wouldn’t be able to stop. Catching his breath, he looked at her, admiring her beneath him.
She smiled, tracing his jaw. “I never imagined a kiss could feel like…that.” She brushed a finger over his lips. “Ever.”
He swept her hair back, and traced his thumb over her bottom lip in a slow caress. “I never want to stop kissing you, Esemeray.”
Her eyes shifted into a calm sea as she whispered, “Then don’t.”
Riggs pressed a small kiss on her lips. “Stay with me.”
Her brows bunched together in a way that made his heart sink. “What if we are caught?”
He brushed her hair again, placing the strands behind her ear. “Hell with the consequences.”